


Very Good Bad Idea

by CasualCosplay



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Alcohol, Bucky needs attention, Drinking, Fainting, Fake Fainting, Kissing, M/M, WWII, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23481052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasualCosplay/pseuds/CasualCosplay
Summary: Bucky knows what he’s about to do is just about the stupidest thing he can do. He knows he’s going to scare the living shit out of Steve, knows he’ll probably regret this later and he hates himself for doing this to Steve, but he can’t stand this any longer. Can’t stand Steve watching someone else with that look. With fire in his eyes and in his heart. How long Bucky had been hoping to be on the receiving end of that look from Steve. And he had been, once. He needs it again. Needs it like he needs oxygen. He needs Steve to stop looking at Peggy or anyone else. He might die if he can’t get Steve to look at him just once.In Which Bucky Pretends to Faint, and Steve Nearly has a Heart Attack
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 18
Kudos: 183





	Very Good Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic like a hundred years ago, and it finally gets to see the light of day!

Bucky knows what he’s about to do is just about the stupidest thing he can do. He knows he’s going to scare the living shit out of Steve, knows he’ll probably regret this later and he hates himself for doing this to Steve, but he can’t stand this any longer. Can’t stand Steve watching someone else with that look. With fire in his eyes and in his heart. How long Bucky had been hoping to be on the receiving end of that look from Steve. And he had been, once. He needed it again. Needed it like he needed oxygen. He needed Steve to stop looking at Peggy or anyone else. He might die if he can’t get Steve to look at him just once.

Bucky downs the rest of his beer in seconds, shakes his head to clear it, but he’s drunk and that does nothing except incite a hollow ringing in his ears. It isn’t hard to pretend really that he’s swaying on his feet, that he can’t keep his head up or that his eyes are fluttering beyond his control. He stumbles over to Steve, eyes dull, grabs him by the elbow and utters his name, just once. The word snags on his lips. He looks into Steve’s face, and sees those eyes. He nearly smiles in triumph, before remembering he’s supposed to look weak, on the verge of collapse.

“Bucky? What’s wrong?” Bucky tries not to look drunk off his ass. He’s not sure if he succeeds, but either way, the look on Steve’s face is so much better than passion. It’s fear, it’s caring and compassion, and Bucky has captivated his attention beyond distraction. Not even Peggy tugging on his elbow is enough to make him draw his gaze away from Bucky, growing limp. Steve grips him around the shoulders. Shakes him lightly. “Bucky. Bucky, look at me. Look at me, Buck.” Bucky doesn’t look. Instead he allows his eyes to flutter closed at last. He relaxes all his muscles falling into Steve’s arms, letting Steve support him, letting his head loll against Steve’s arm.

“Oh, God,” Steve says, falling on his knees, trying to lower Bucky to the ground as gently as he can. “Oh, God, Buck, what have you done now?” The concern, the anxiety in Steve’s voice put’s Bucky’s heart in his mouth, guilt builds in his stomach. It burns. And then his heart explodes when Steve puts a couple of fingers to his throat to check his pulse, and even more so when the same fingers brush the sweaty hair out of Bucky’s eyes. Bucky can see those hands in his mind’s eye. He’s wanted to kiss those hands since they were both eight years old, bruised and bloody, and slender, just skin and bone, and he wanted to kiss them so bad it physically hurt him. He still wants to kiss those hands, now that Steve has a grip like steel and his fingers are long and beautiful and Bucky wants to kiss each knuckle. Trail little kisses up Steve’s arm, until he gets to the crook of Steve’s neck. He wants to kiss Steve’s collarbone and bite little marks into Steve’s skin. He wants to spread kisses across Steve’s jaw until he gets to Steve’s gorgeous lips. He would kiss them until they were pink and swollen, and—

“Jesus, Bucky, please wake up.” Steve sounds close to tears. He sounds broken. The closest to it that Bucky’s ever heard. It’s such a harsh sound it startles Bucky into opening his eyes. Steve doesn’t notice at first, so Bucky settles his hand gently on Steve’s arm still tightly clutching Bucky’s shoulder. Steve’s eyes snap up so suddenly he startles Bucky.

“Jesus,” Steve whispers, breathless, cupping Bucky’s jaw in his other hand and looking at Bucky in a way that makes Bucky think Steve’s forgotten about the other people in the room. Like he hasn’t seen Bucky in months, and it reminds Bucky that it has been months. Bucky was gone for months, then almost dead, in the clutches of HYDRA and suddenly the guilt in his stomach intensifies to the point of nausea. He rolls up onto his elbow, brushing Steve’s arm away in case he vomits on the floor. He’s close. Steve rubs his back, murmuring words Bucky can’t hear and that only makes it worse.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.” Steve heaves Bucky’s arm over his shoulder and drags him to his feet. And now Bucky is the one who’s close to tears. They’ve accumulated quite the crowd amid the commotion, but Steve pushes past them, ignoring them all. Bucky has his full attention now and it’s tearing his heart in two. Steve doesn’t deserve this. And Bucky certainly doesn’t deserve Steve. He manages to get all the way out of the pub before the tears start falling. Steve doesn’t notice at first until Bucky fails to restrain the wounded noise that’s been building in his throat the last few minutes. He unravels himself from Steve and fiercely swipes the tears from his eyes.

“Buck? What’s the matter? What hurts?” Bless him, Steve automatically assumes the wound is physical.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Bucky is dirty, and sweaty, and now tearstained. He summons up his courage.

“I’m sorry, Steve you should go back to the pub.”

“What are you talking about Buck, I’m here to take care of you. If HYDRA did something to you and—,”

“No one did anything to me.”

“What?”

“I faked it, Steve, I didn’t mean to scare you like that, I just couldn’t stand you standin’ there, speaking to Peggy like I never existed. I faked it to get your attention.”

“Fuck, Bucky. I—fuck…” Steve leaned against the nearest wall, pressing his face in his palms.

“I’m sorry, Steve.” Bucky looks down at his feet. And then Steve is storming toward him. He’s taller than Bucky now, and he looked so determined. Bucky takes several steps back before deciding to stand his ground, because whatever Steve wants to do to him, he deserves every second of it. Steve pushes Bucky back against the opposite wall. 

And then their lips are pressed together. 

Bucky goes rigid. Of all the things he had been expecting, this was not even in the top one hundred, or the top anything really. In all the reconstructions of the future he might have imagined over and over in his head it was not this. And Steve kisses him.

Bucky had kissed girls before, many times. There was Cassidy in fifth grade, Jenny in sixth. Julia, Mary and Betty in eighth, and countless more through high school and afterwards. But for all the experience he had, he had never kissed anyone like this, never been kissed by someone who needed it. Or needed it just as much himself. And Bucky grabs Steve by the face and kisses him until his mouth hurts. 

Steve’s lips are warm and taste vaguely of alcohol he can’t get drunk on. 

But Bucky can. 

And he is drunk on the feel of Steve’s mouth and his skin, and the heat of his body pressing Bucky to the walls. He claws at the front of Steve’s uniform, trying, though it was impossible, to bring Steve even closer to him. It’s gut-wrenching to let go. Steve pulls away first, panting heavily and staring at the hand on Bucky’s chest.

“How long have you been sitting on that?” Bucky asked. He meant it to come out jokingly, but the words were brimming with desire, longing and curiosity to know how much he was Steve’s. How much Steve wanted this.

“The fifth grade. You came up to me after recess and told me Cassidy French had let you kiss her underneath the playground, and instead of imagining her kissing me, like I should have, I imagined me kissing you.

“Only fifth grade? I’ve wanted this since we were eight.” And now he laughs. He laughs and laughs and they stumble home together, where they finish the night, living out Bucky’s fantasies. He gets to kiss Steve as much as he likes, as long as he likes, if only for one night, before they go back to work. Before the next time he sees Steve is on a bridge in the middle of how-should-he-know and who-the-hell-are-you?

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos Appreciated!  
> \-- CasualCosplay <3


End file.
